


Of Football and Life

by akaqueenh



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Disability, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaqueenh/pseuds/akaqueenh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where CM Punk is a retired soccer star</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Football and Life

**Author's Note:**

> Had this crazy idea after watching the World Cup. This was my way of combining my love of soccer and wrestling.

Heat from the lights above him made him start to sweat as he adjusted the microphone attached to his t-shirt. He looked from one camera to the other and his thoughts began to drift. The reporter across from him smiled warmly at him, but he paid her no attention.

“Are you comfortable, Mr. Brooks?” She asked.

He sighed before responding. “I suppose so…at least as comfortable as I can be right now.”

You’re gonna do great.” Excited the dark-haired petite woman grinned, and then turned to talk to the assistants who were busy readying them for their interview.

A few minutes went by in blissful silence for him before the reporter signaled for the assistants to step away.

“We can begin whenever you’re ready, Mr. Brooks.”

Brooks shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your show, Ms. Lee. I’m just the guest interview.”

“Please call me April, and you’re more than just a guest.” She reached out and took his right hand in hers. “I want you feel as comfortable as possible, Mr. Brooks.”

He smiled back at her, seeing genuine kindness reflected back in her eyes. “Like I said, I’m about as comfortable as I can get right now after having all these hens cackling over me and if we’re gonna be less formal, call me Phil or call me Punk. The only Mr. Brooks I know was in that Kevin Costner movie and last time I checked I wasn’t a serial killer.”

April laughed loudly as she nodded. “That works for me, Phil.”

There was a pause before the reporter signaled for the cameraman to begin filming and she adjusted herself in her seat ever so carefully as she spoke. “He put American Soccer on the map with his World Cup debut in 2006 and made history in 2010 helping the US win its first World Cup with a victory that is still being talked about nearly 8 years after it happened. He still holds the record for most saves in a single game, and no one has come close to matching his impressive feat of having managed to go for an unprecedented 7 seasons without being scored on. On and off the field he made a name for himself and you always recognized him with his wild colored hair and crazy antics. Some might call him a legend, many would call him a football god, but he just calls himself Phil…Phil Brooks. Earlier this month he released his autobiography Straightedge Punk, a revealing look at the man, the myth and the legend and now I come to from his home here in Chicago.” She turned to look over at Phil. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me today.”

  
He nodded. “Honestly, I gotta admit this feels a little strange.”

  
She raised an eyebrow clearly taken aback by his comment. “Why? You’ve done hundreds of interviews over the years. What makes this one different?”

“It’s complicated.” He let out a breath and then continued. “Every interview I’ve ever given was after or before a game, this one has nothing to do with either, so it just feels a bit weird. Even when I had to retire, I never did an interview or press conference about it, everything just ended nothing needed to be said.”

  
“This is the first time you’re speaking publicly since the accident.” She commented and Phil pursed his lips as he nodded. “It’s been three years and I know people have been wondering what’s been going on with Phil Brooks. You had disappeared from the public eye almost completely, and now you resurface with your book about your life.” She lifts the book up positioning it in front of the camera, the cover showing a shirtless Phil Brooks proudly displaying the ‘straightedge’ tattoo across his stomach.

He chuckled. “It was a crazy idea that had been tossed around by my old coach actually. I really didn’t want to at first, but the longer I was sitting at home doing nothing I got bored. Then one day I started writing, mostly just to clear my head, therapy stuff and before I knew it I was writing a book.”

The reporter laughed. “For a crazy idea it turned out pretty amazing, and I’m not just saying that. I’ve spent the last few days reading your book and it more than surprised me.”

This time it was Phil’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I’m just a footballer.”

“I’ve been a fan of yours since you started playing for Manchester and I thought I knew all about you. I could probably recite all your stats and even quote some of your old interviews; I’m that much of a Punk Junkie as your fans were called back in the day.”

At that Phil laughed heartily. “Now I know why you wanted this interview, Ms. Lee.”

“Seriously, when I read your book it shocked me to see how honest you were about yourself. You admit a lot of things that, quite frankly most people would have a hard time admitting to themselves let alone to the world.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know any other way to be. People sometimes think I’m an ass because I’m honest about things, but that’s just me. When I was on the pitch I was always an in your face kinda player and off the pitch that’s still the type of person I am.”

“Well, in the spirit of that honesty I’d like to talk about some of the things you mention in the book.”

“Talk away.”

She paused for just a moment, bringing her right hand up to push a strand of black hair back behind her ear. “As I said you discuss a number of things in the book, from your childhood, to how you got into professional football, all way up the accident that ended your career…I know you’ve been asked often about why you’re straightedge but in the book you explain about your mother and how her drug use was a major reason behind your straightedge lifestyle, and why you left home when you were just 15…have you seen or spoken to her since then?”

He looked away, a mixture of sadness and what she could only explain as frustration on his face. “The last time I talked to my mother was the day before the World Cup tournament started in 2010. She showed up at the hotel drunk and high as a kite…

_He watched as the drunken woman staggered down the hall towards him, waving her finger and shouting. His first instinct was to duck back into the hotel room, but people had begun to step out of their rooms to see what the commotion was and he knew he needed to act fast before it turned into an even worse incident than it was already shaping up to be. Hurriedly he moved towards her, putting an arm around her, trying his best to guide her to his room, whispering to her as he did so._

_“Come on, Nina. Let’s just go inside and talk.”_

_“I’m your MOTHER!” She screamed as she jerked away from and before he could react she had reached out and slapped him. “You worthless little bastard! How dare you treat your own mother like this!”_   
_He stumbled backwards and felt a pair of hands take hold of his arms. Instantly he turned, ready to fend off whomever was holding him._

_“Easy fella.” It was a familiar voice that spoke to him and he turned back to see his partner of almost three years Stephen Farrelly staring at him and back the drunk woman in confusion. “What’s going on?”_   
_He sighed. “You wanted to meet my mother? Well that’s the crazy bitch.”_

_She continued to scream obscenities at Phil and finally lunged at him before Stephen stepped in pulling her away. After several minutes hotel security arrived and Phil watched as she was escorted out of the building._

Ms. Lee watched the forlorn expression play across Phil’s face as he spoke about the incident and her heart went out to him.

“The coach showed up a little while later, one my teammates had seen what happened and called him. I’m actually surprised nothing ended up getting reported, as big a scene as she made…But I haven’t seen my mother since, and mostly I’m glad.”

“Why’s that?”

Tears welled up inside him and for a moment he had to look away again. “I know it may come across as though I hate my mother but I don’t. I want nothing to do with her; then again she never really wanted anything to do with me. She made that clear when I was a kid. Was I hurt by the choices that she made? Absolutely. Have I moved past all that? I would like to say yes, but there’s always gonna be a part of me that…feels bad for her, wants to see her better. She’s still my mother, as stupid as that may sound.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid.” She paused seeing him wipe a tear from his eyes. “In your story you mentioned your partner, Stephen Farrelly. How long have you two been together now?”

Phil groaned and began counting on his fingers. “He’s gonna kick me if I get this wrong…Ten years now.”  
Lee laughed. “You had to use your fingers?”

The former footballer shrugged his shoulders and gave her a sheepish grin. “Math was never my best subject…thankfully I had other talents.”

“Always the charmer.” She noticed him wince in his chair and quietly motioned for the camera to be turned off. Once the red camera light went off she spoke again. “Let’s take a little break, then we can get back to it.”

“How am I doin?”

She smirked. “Great, just like I said you would.”

“I think I worked my way through most of my nerves, so the rest of this should be downhill.” He flexed his hands then reached down to unlock the wheels of his wheelchair and spun himself out of range of the cameras.

As he wheeled away AJ Lee felt a tear of her own begin to fall and she struggled to compose herself. The cameraman beside her tapped her left shoulder, snapping her focus back causing her to let out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, Zack?”

“Ms. Lee they’re gonna need about five minutes to reset the lights. There was a burnout with one of the bulbs, but everything should be ready once you and Mr. Brooks are back in place.”  
She smiled softly, clapping a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “Not a problem, Z.”

With that she walked off the filming area to where a small table had been set up with coffee and donuts and aimlessly took hold of a small glazed donut. She brought it to her lips and bit down, her mind drifting off to the first time she’d ever met Phillip Brooks.

_2006_   
_April Lee was excited to say the least. She had tickets to a World Cup match, and she was about to see her idol Phillip ‘Punk’ Brooks play a match for the first time. She bit down on the pretzel in her hand, the warm bread filling her up as she waited for the start of the match. After what seemed like an eternity the US team stepped onto the field, each of them waving to the crowd and to no one’s surprise Brooks got the biggest ovation when he came out of the tunnel and onto the pitch. He looked cocky and sure of himself as he stretched out, then kicked the ball around a bit with the rest of the team._

_What started as a simple fan enjoying watching her favorite play the game, turned into complete awe when the crowd and fans began to cheer as Phil Brooks urged his team on, never allowing a single goal to be made by the opposing team. She could clearly see why he’d been chosen as the captain, the way he rallied his team and pushed them to keep going. In the end the US won, but would eventually be ousted from the tournament in a 1-0 loss to Germany. But that day when the game ended an ecstatic April flooded the field along with the rest of the US fans._

_Amidst the chaos she found herself nose to chest with her idol who smiled down at her as he tried to back away from the throng of fanatics pawing at him._

_“Sorry.” She said, smiling meekly._

_He rolled his eyes. “What are you like 12?”_

_“I’m 18.”_

_Snorting he crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure you are.”_

_Before he could say more a voice caught his attention and he turned to his left to talk to one of his teammates. “Coach wants us to move toward the tunnel. Security is coming in to get everyone off the pitch.”_

_He nodded in understanding and turned to leave, but stopped short, turning back to April._

_“Cool shirt.” He winked and she blushed furiously causing him to laugh. “I take it back…you’re 18.”_

_He motioned for her to move a bit closer and in a quick move reached into the bag she had slung over her shoulder. A moment later his hand came back with a marker, which he uncapped and quickly began scribbling on the right shoulder of her jersey._

_“That’s better.” He chuckled at the dumbfounded expression on her face and slipped the marker back into her bag. “Take care kiddo.”_

_With that he turned and ran off towards the tunnel, leaving her staring after him as she absently reached towards her shoulder._

A slight push at the back of her knees brought her back to reality and she turned around to see Phil Brooks in his wheelchair just behind her.

“Earth to April!” He called as he waved a hand at her. “Sorry about tapping you with the chair, but you didn’t hear me when I called you.”

“Sorry.” She said in almost a whisper as she looked down at him.

He smirked. “So are we ready to go back?”

“I am, if you are.”

Five minutes later the interview was restarted.

“Earlier we started talking about your partner, professional Rugby player Stephen Farrelly. You pretty much turned the sports world on its ear when you basically threw yourself out of the closet after your World Cup win in 2010.” AJ turns to the nearby monitor where a video begins to play of the final moments of the 2010 World Cup.

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Um was that a question? I guess I did. I mean it wasn’t intentional. It was just one of those things.”

AJ laughed softly and again pointed to the monitor as she spoke. “So you didn’t purposely make out with your boyfriend on national tv?”

Phil brought a hand up to cover his face, stifling his own laughter. “The way I recall it, when the game ended I was pretty damned exited…everyone was. I didn’t even know Stephen was gonna be on the field, and when I saw him it just happened. Stephen had come out a couple of months before during a radio interview, and we had talked about me doing the same but I told him I wasn’t sure about it.”

“Did you think the fans wouldn’t accept you?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t have cared less if they did or not. I just wasn’t ready to be that open about who I was.” Seeing her disbelief at his response he raised his hand to let her know he wasn’t finished. “Now don’t get me wrong. I do care about my fans. But anyone that knows anything about me, despite how much in the spotlight I’ve been, I’ve always valued my privacy and the thought of giving away that part of myself…well, a part of me wanted to keep that just for me.”

“Even if it meant lying?”

Again he shook his head. “I never have nor would I lie about my sexuality. People have asked me since then and I hold to my answer, had I ever been asked directly I would have given an honest answer. But no one ever asked me. I don’t believe in lying. It doesn’t do anyone any good. I’m gay and always have been.”

“In the book you mention that your team, both the national and your club team always knew about your sexuality.”

“Like I said, I never lied to anyone and they respected me enough not to shout it from the rooftops.”

She sat up straighter in her seat and crossed her legs. “You’re coming out was pretty widely publicized and we all know you’re known for being one of the more colorful individuals both on and off the pitch. I’d like to go back a bit. You didn’t mention it in the book, but I’ve always heard this story about you and how you ended up on Manchester United.”

Phil grinned. “If you heard Thom’s version, it’s probably a little dodgy.”

“The short version is you somehow tried out for Newcastle and ended up on Manchester…so fill in the details.”

“How much film do you have? This is kind of a long story.” He ran a hand through his short black hair and looked back at her.

“Don’t worry we have plenty.”

“Well, I have to go back a little bit so I can fully explain the story.”

_2000_   
_Teenage Phillip Brooks stretched his right leg quietly on the bench watching his waste of a soccer coach sleep in a lawn chair before the final game of his senior year started. A petite blonde approached the bench, drawing his attention away from the sleeping coach and he turned to talk to her._

_“Nicki, where’s Cam?” He asked not seeing her brother, the team’s goalkeeper with her._

_“He’s in the hospital, broke his arm last night trying to wrestle with our cousin on the trampoline.”_

_“Shit! Is he okay?”_

_She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the dumbass is gonna be fine. He just can’t play.”_

_Phil hung his head. “Great…and coach lard ass over there won’t have a clue what to do.”_

_As if on cue the rotund man snapped his eyes open, looked over at them and then back where the rest of the team was warming up._

_“Where’s Schuler?” He asked noting that the goalkeeper was not on the field._

_“He won’t be here, coach. He broke his arm and can’t play.” Phil commented and motioned for Nicki to go back to the stands._

_Glaring at the long-haired boy in front of him the coach growled, “Fine, you can take his place.”_

_“ME!? I’m your forward, coach!”_

_The coach stepped towards him until he was almost chest to chest. “And now you’re a goalkeeper…it’s not like you bunch of losers are gonna win this game anyway. Just play where I tell ya, so we can get this over with and get the hell outta here.”_

_“Whatever!” Phil stomped off angrily searching the bag of extra gear for a goalkeeper shirt, silently cursing as he did so._

_The game started like all the games that season had started, with the Lockport Lions being run over offensively by their opponents, but Phil was determined as he held his ground in the net. He never let a single goal be scored despite his team’s abysmal play. Unbeknownst to him a football scout was seated in the crowd and had been thoroughly impressed with his performance. The man approached him once the game had ended._

_“Brooks, yes?” He said in a noticeable British accent and Phil turned to see a man in his forties, with dark hair and a beard smiling and reaching a hand towards him._

_Cautiously he shook the offered hand. “Yeah, and you are?”_

_“Thom Webb. I’m a football scout.”_

_“What does that have to do with me?”_

_The older man smiled. “Have you ever been to England?”_

_Four months later Phil Brooks found himself stepping off a plane and for the first time he knew what it was like to be in another country. He looked around in awe and was certain that people were probably laughing at him for how ignorant he must have seemed, for having never been out of Chicago._

_He spent two weeks getting ready before Thom took him to the tryout for the Newcastle United club team. He sat in the stands waiting for Thom to let him know when he would be able to get on the field and was intrigued by the players he saw. Some of them were impressive, but he had no doubt he could handle himself here. Nearly twenty minutes went by before Thom came back up to the stands, a dejected expression on his face._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_The older man sighed. “I’m sorry, Phil. We’re gonna have to go at this another way.”_

_“Whatdya mean?”_

_Again Thom sighed. “Coach Kallen won’t budge. He doesn’t want a Yank on his team. Let along a kid.”_

_Phil stood up clearly irate. “I’m not a kid, and what’s this Yank shit! I can play circles around these guys. I’ve been watching that goalkeeper. I’m better than he is.”_

_Thom raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”_

_The younger man pointed the pitch. “Watch…He can’t even stop a simple feint. He never has a clue which way they’re gonna go.”_

_Together they watch the practice taking place on the field and each time the players took a shot at the keeper he missed the shot and would guess incorrectly which side they would kick to, but Phil was able to tell exactly where the ball would go. As he sat calling out where the ball would be going, neither realized they were being watched until a voice caught their attention._

_“The boy seems to have a good eye.” An old balding man, in a Manchester United jacket approached them and Thom seemed taken aback by the man’s presence._

_“Sir,I um…” He stumbled over his words, but the older man waved his hand between them to silence him._

_“No worries, Webb. I’ll have a word with Kallen. I’m curious to see if the boy has as much talent as I heard you say he did.” With that the man turned on his heel and walked away._

_From the stands they could see the balding man arguing with the coach, who turned red as a tomato before stomping off the field in a huff. Once he was off the field the man waved towards the two of them and they cautiously approached._

_The balding man smiled. “Alright, young man. You have ten goals to prove how worthy you truly are. Coach Kallen will choose his strikers and we’ll see what you can do.”_

_Phil’s jaw nearly hit the ground for a moment, but to his credit he recovered quickly and hurried to ready himself for his tryout. Fifteen minutes later he was standing calmly in the net waiting for the ten strikers to approach. The first one stepped to the line, Phil watched him carefully. The whistle blew, the striker’s boot connected with the ball and Phil Brooks was already in action. He was fairly certain he heard Thom cheer for him, but with each one he went further into a mental zone where little mattered but the world around the net. Before he knew it he had stopped the last striker and Thom jumped from the sideline. The other players stared amazed that they had been bested by one they deemed a veritable newbie to the game._

_“He’s still not playing for my bloody team, Thom. I don’t care how many goals he stops.” Coach Kallen shouted as he stomped off the field in disgust._

_Wiping sweat from his brow, Phil shook his head. “Oh well. Guess it’s like you said. We do this another way.”_

_Thom began to help the younger man gather things when the older balding man approached them again._

_“Webb, can I have a moment with you and the boy?” He asked. “It’s Brooks, right?”_

_“Yes, sir.” Phil responded, still not sure who the older man was._

_“Well, after what I just witnessed I’d like to make you an offer.”_

_He turned to Thom and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”_

“So you had no idea you were talking to the owner of Manchester United?”

He chuckled. “Not a clue. Thom didn’t say a word until after the guy left, and that was only because I asked him. Apparently he was up there trying to convince Newcastle make a trade for one of their players, but that fell through and instead they got me.”

“And you didn’t put that story in the book?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I could only put so much.”

“Let’s switch gears again. On a more serious note…I want to talk about the accident. I mentioned earlier this is the first public appearance for you since it happened. Now for anyone watching that doesn’t know…in 2014, a week before you were set to go to the World Cup, you were injured in a car accident when a drunk driver ran your vehicle off the road. You’ve been in a wheelchair since. You basically disappeared after it happened…I think quite a few people actually thought you might have been dead.”

“In a lot of ways I was. It took a long time for me to get to where I am now. I was in a very dark place right after it happened. I was so angry and bitter. It felt like I’d lost everything. I pushed everyone away…” Phil closed his eyes as tears began to fall. “There were times when I wished I was dead, when I thought that would have been easier than to deal with and be how I was at the time.”

AJ held back her own tears, moved by the emotion Phil clearly still felt as he spoke about what happened to him.

“You can’t imagine what it’s like to think you’ve lost everything that matters to you. That first year that was all I could see. I couldn’t play football. I couldn’t walk. I was in constant pain. I hated everyone and everything around me.” Again the tears fell from his eyes and he furiously wiped them away. “If it hadn’t been for Stephen I probably wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

_December 2014 -5 months after the accident_

_“GET OUT!” A glass shattered against the wall as Stephen watched his partner pull himself across the kitchen floor towards his wheelchair while he continued to shout at him to leave. He refused to leave Phil alone, despite angry pleas to do just that._

_“I’m not going anywhere, fella. Whether ya like it or not, yer stuck with me.” Stephen moved to grab the broom from the closet and began sweeping up the shards of glass, careful to get each piece and keeping himself between Phil and the bits of broken glass._

_“Go to Hell!”_

_“Believe me, I’m already right there with ya.” He muttered to himself as he swept up the last of the glass and tossed it in the waste bin._

_He watched in silent agony as his partner struggled to get himself into the wheelchair, adamantly refusing any help from him or anyone else. It was torture for him to see the man he loved in so much pain and denying himself any relief, even the physical therapy that he had started had been a disaster. He understood that Phil was straightedge and would not take pain medication, that he could accept, but the venom he spewed at the therapists was beyond ridiculous. Stephen was beside himself. He had tried talking to Phil’s sisters about the situation, but they didn’t know how to help their brother any more than he did._   
_Each day he watched the Phil Brooks he had fallen in love with slip further away into a pit of depression and despair and he had no idea how to help him or if it was even possible to. A week after the projectile glass incident Stephen came home from the grocery store to find what he had feared the most. As he entered their bedroom he saw Phil sitting quietly on the bed with knife in his right hand, the blade pressed against his forearm, a series of small shallow cuts already made on Phil’s tattooed skin._

_“What are ya doin, love?” Stephen asked, carefully stepping in full view of his partner._

_“Go away, Stephen. Please.” His voice was soft and low, such sadness that it broke Stephen’s heart to hear it._

_“Ya know I can’t do that.”_

_Tears fell from Phil’s eyes as he looked up at the red-haired man in front of him. “Why? Why can’t you just let me go? I’m nothing now!”_

_“Never, Phillip. Never say that to me.” Stephen moved forward slowly, but stopped when Phil began to press the blade harder against his skin. “Don’t! I can’t lose you, Phil!”_

_“I’m worthless, Stephen! Look at me!” He pulled the blade back and pointed it at his legs. “LOOK AT ME! What good am I now?! How can you want me? Want this?”_

_“I love you, you daft bastard. I meant it the first time I said it and I mean it now. I don’t care whether you ever walk again. You’re mine and I’m yours always, that’s what I promised you. I never said a damn thing about takin it back if you couldn’t walk. I wish I could give you back your legs, but I can’t, and I’m sorry this happen to ya, but I won’t lose ya…not like this.”_

_Stephen eased himself closer, not stopping until he had his left hand covering Phil’s right. He felt the other man loosen his grip on the knife and he gently tossed it to the floor, pulling the other man into an embrace as he did so._

_“Let me help ya, Phil.” He pleaded as he held the dark-haired man in his arms._

_Suddenly, he felt the body in his arms shake and tremble as Phil sobbed in his embrace._

Both AJ and Phil were crying as he finished speaking about his near suicide, and she could see that even the crew filming had been moved by his words.

“And how are you now?” She struggled to get the question out, and it took him a moment to gather himself so he could respond.

“Now I’m in a much better place, mentally. I accept that I have my physical limitations.” He tapped his legs. “There are times it frustrates me, but I don’t let it stop me. I learned a long time ago you have to push yourself, you have to keep going. I’ve had a crapload of bad in my life, and if I didn’t keep going I’d have been dead and buried years ago.”

“To hear you say all of that…I have to admit I wasn’t entirely sure where this interview was going to end up. I had some questions I wanted to ask, things as a fan I was curious about, but I wasn’t expecting this.”  
Phil smirked. “Nice to know I can still surprise people.”

She chuckled and nodded. “So what’s next for the man who’s done it all in the sport of soccer? I mean you’ve always done things your way and you’ve always caused a stir no matter what you do. It makes one wonder just why you came out of hiding after all this time and what you have planned?”

Phil brought his hands together, smirk still on his face. “Why do you have to put it like that?”

“Thought we were still working in the spirit of honesty?”

The former football star groaned playfully. “Well, if you’re gonna be like that…Actually, there are some things in the works.”

When he went silent AJ crossed her arms over her chest. “Anything you’d care to share with the world?”

“I’d debating whether I should just yet.”

“How’s that for a teaser?” AJ laughed as she stared into the camera.

Taking a deep breath Phil looked at AJ, then carefully began to speak. “I’m probably gonna get yelled at for lettin the cat outta the bag, but you’re the one that said I tend to cause a stir so here goes nothin…As of 48 hours ago, you’re looking at the new head coach of the US National Football Team.”

AJ Lee stared agape at the man across from her. She tried to formulate words to respond, but nothing was forthcoming. Even her filming crew appeared completely flabbergasted by the news as they watched, and waited her response.

“What? How? Jurgen Klinsmann announced he was vacating his spot a month ago due his health issues. As far as anyone has been concerned the coaching spot has been up in the air.”  
Phil nodded. “I won’t go into the details, but I will say that I spoke to Jurgan before he left and it was a rather lengthy discussion. It’s some huge shoes to fill. He’s an amazing coach…”

The interview went on for a few more minutes before April wrapped it up and signaled for the camera to turn off. Once the light went off she dropped her hand to her side, glaring at the man across from her.

“Holy shit! I was not expecting that last one.”

Phil let out a full belly laugh, finding the younger woman’s befuddled state highly amusing. Once he had calmed down he took a sip from the bottle of water he kept in the side pocket of his wheelchair and turned back to April.

“Since you got to grill me, I have a question for you.”

The petite reporter brought her hand to her chin and smiled. “Alright. Shoot.”

“Were you planning on telling me we’d met before?”

April gulped and looked away as a blush crept over her cheeks. “Um…what do you? I mean…”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t remember? 2006, the Spain match, you were in the pack of nutballs that rushed the field…I thought you looked like you were 12…if I’m right, you still have the jersey I signed.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I framed it.”

“Was it the left shoulder or the right?”

“Right.” She covered her face with her left hand, shaking her head as she did so.

He smirked. “That’s a diehard Punk Junkie for ya.”

“Who’s a Punk Junkie?” A familiar Irish voice made them both turn, and Phil grinned when he saw Stephen standing on the opposite side of the room.

“Hey you!” He called out, waving the big man forward.

“Are ya finished? I was trying ta get here beforehand so I could watch, but your sister can be a pain the arse.” Stephen leaned down to kiss Phil and April turned away wanting to give the two men some sense ofprivacy.

As they pulled away from the kiss Phil answered, “Yeah we just finished a few minutes ago. You’ll have to watch it tonight like everyone else. Now which sister do I need to yell at?”

“It’s just Shalene and her damn pregnancy hormones. I swear the woman has lost her mind. First, she wanted to go Whole Foods to shop for stuff to make dinner tonight. I tried to tell her Cassie wanted to take everyone out to celebrate, but she wouldn’t hear it. When we get to the store she starts crying, and everyone is staring at me like I did something to her and when I ask what’s wrong…she’s crying over a bloody picture of a teddy bear. We get to the counter to pay for all the things we’re not even gonna eat tonight and she blows up at the cashier because the cashier handed her the change the wrong way. I had to practically drag your sister out of store while she yelled at the cashier for not knowing how to put dollar bills facing the correct way.” Both Phil and April were snickering as Stephen finished telling the story. “I love your sister to death, but the woman is completely mental right now.”

Phil nodded vigorously, “Yeah, she’s a little whacky with the whole pregnancy thing.”

The three laughed, then Stephen turned to April and extended his hand. “Since my better half here didn’t introduce us…Stephen Farrelly.”

She warmly shook his hand. “April Lee and it’s a pleasure. I appreciate the both of you allowing me into your home today.”

“Yeah, yeah, you just wanted to see if I’d sign the other shoulder.” Phil laughed and April wrinkled her face, trying to look offended, but quickly began to laugh.

“Okay what’d I miss?” Stephen asked, watching the interplay between the two.

“You remember I told you once about that Cup game back 06 when the fans rushed the field and I signed some kid’s jersey, she looked like she was about 12, but swore she was 18?”

Stephen was quiet for a moment trying to recall the story, then nodded as it came back to him. “Don’t tell me…it’s Lee here?”

April shrugged her shoulders trying to look innocent. “Yep…that’s me…I own it, okay. I was the crazy Punk Junkie back in the day.”

The three laughed and talked for another hour while the film crew finished taking down their equipment, then April thanked Phil and Stephen again and excused herself so she could return to the studio to ready their interview to be aired later that night.

Once they were alone Phil looked around the living room that was now free of cameras and equipment and sighed heavily. Stephen placed a hand on his shoulder and Phil brought his own hand up, letting their fingertips touch.

“You know I love you, right?” Phil asked.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I know that. I’d have left your idiot arse years ago if I didn’t know that.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Stephen walked around so he could face Phil. “Ready for what?”

“To be a coach?” The smaller man bit his lower lip, a clear sign of his nervousness.

“Why would you even doubt yourself?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Because I’ve been away from the sport for three years.”

“Nothing has changed in all that time other than gaining a few new players. The team will be excited to have you. You’ll have nearly a full year to get them ready. Things will be just fine. Trust yourself. Youalways have, and I’ll be right there with you.”

Phil pulled Stephen’s hand forward kissing the redhead’s fingertips. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, babe.”

Three days later Phil Brooks wheeled himself into the lockerroom where the US National team was awaiting him. He stopped in front of the door, held his breath a moment remembering what it felt like the first time he’d ever stepped foot in front of professional football players. He had the same anxious feeling then as he did now, but for the first time since he’d agreed to take the job he began to feel completely calm.

“I got this. I can handle this.” He whispered to himself, then grasped the handled, pushed the door open and moved into the next phase of his life.

 

Epilogue

A year of hard work had finally come down to this, the 2018 World Cup final. Phil watched from the sidelines as the US went head-to-head with a hungry Argentina team. The US had been a force throughout the tournament, and Phil was beyond proud. They had dominated during the opening rounds and despite being in the group of death, they triumphed, beating and outscoring the other teams in their group.  
The US team had come together allowing the fewest goals of any team during the tournament and this final match was proving to be a testament to how strong-willed and determined both teams were. As time wound down in the second half of extra time Phil could only watch as the team played their hearts out. Several near miss attempts were made by both sides before finally a kick no one saw coming happened and Argentina scored a point in a final 30 seconds of the game. Not willing to admit to defeat the US made one final attempt to score but time ran out. As the clock stopped Phil brought a hand to his face as the Argentine players rushed the pitch and his team lagged back in dismay.

To his surprise the captain of the Argentine team, who had scored the winning goal was the first to approach him and he smiled, recognizing the younger man from his days as a player.

“Amazing play, Leo. Congratulations.” Phil said, extending a hand to the younger player.

They shook hands and the younger man bent down to embrace him. “Thank you. I would not be the player I am without you, Punk. I always wanted to say that to you.”

“You’re the best in the world, man. All I did was tell you not to be afraid of us big, scary goalkeepers.”

Leo Messi smiled and rolled his eyes. “That’s your catchphrase not mine. I’m just a footballer.”

With that the Argentine turned and walked back to where his team was celebrating, leaving Phil alone with his thoughts. He was shaken from them when turned around to see the rest of his team standing together on the sidelines, all sharing the same devastated expression on their faces.

“Hey, knock it off.” His voices carried across the loud pitch towards them as he moved closer. “We have nothing to ashamed of. You fought hard out there today. You played til the last second. So they managed to get one in there on you.”

He looked around at each one the players and continued. “Did you give your best effort?” Seeing several head nods he kept on. “That’s what I thought. You did the best you could. It just so happens that, today was their day and not yours. If you did the best you could, then that’s that. We accept second place and you know what?”

He paused and again he looked around at each of the players, seeing their confused expressions. “We come back in four years and we do this again. Only next time we don’t accept second place. We make sure our best is better than second place.”

He could see the expressions begin to change on his player’s faces as they nodded in understanding, their dismay clearly lifting. He motioned for them to fall in and the team brought their hands in for USA chant. As they pulled back he noticed from the corner of his vision a familiar face staring back at him and he began to smile as Stephen walked towards him. The big redhead approached slowly and knelt down in front of his chair once he was close enough.

“Helluva game.” He said as he placed his hands on Phil’s knees.

“Helluva good game. Even if it didn’t go our way.” Stephen nodded and leaned in to kiss the smaller man and Phil chuckled as they pulled apart. “You know people are gonna start talking if we do this too often in public.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, looked around the crowded football pitch and laughed. “Do we really care?”

“Nah…just thought I’d say that.” And Phil pulled the redhead in for another kiss.

The end…or is it


End file.
